Posts Tagged With: Taco Bell

Today is once more Bad-Advice Friday. I shall be dispensing bad advice to all comers. The advice will stupendously bad.

MA asks: This has been bothering me…Is it true that cannibals won’t eat clowns because they taste funny?

Dear MA: It’s partially true. All cannibals, and especially gourmet cannibals, are food connoisseurs. Any dish that is not prepared correctly will taste funny to them. For example ribs, and every human body has them, just cry out to be barbecued and with the highest quality barbecue sauce. And oh my gosh, pair your meal with the correct wine. White meat goes with white wine and dark meat goes with red wine. However, it is not true that cannibals don’t like clowns. Indeed, cannibals also like actors and are avid fans of dinner theater. Go to a show with them, they really know how to have a good time.

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MH asks: How do you deal with that school parent who is “that mom” as she brags about her son’s grades and how well he punches kids in the stomach during gym class that always wants you and your kid to hang out with them, even giving your kid a kiss on the forehead and ordering her to sit next to him on the bus ride home?

Dear MH: Clearly words are working anymore. You need to take drastic actions. You need to get head lice for your daughter. Have your daughter put her head on the oafish boy’s shoulder. Many of her head lice will seek out the green pasture of the boy’s head and stampede there. Now getting head lice is getting harder and harder in America due to those pesky hygiene campaigns. In this case, go on a cruise, they’re fun, and head to a beach on your last port of call. Don’t give your daughter a towel. Have her put her head directly on the lice-infested beach. That ought to do it. And if the doltish boy is bald, feed your daughter lutefisk, the most evil food in the world, for breakfast. She’ll puke on the lout for sure. The kid and the mom will never want to bother you and your daughter ever again. Oh, I almost forgot. Head lice are distracting. His grades will suffer.

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JP asks: what do you do when your next door neighbors who just moved has a boyfriend who lets his kids ride round in a kids motorized vehicle that its hood is painted as a confederate flag. A flat bottom boat a giant boxed in trailer and a speed boat, 2 hammocsk and s..t lying over year oh and a home made brick firepit. Help redneck invasion call out the troops.
Dear JP: You can’t let yourself be intimidated. Go to the army surplus store and buy yourself a small tank. (Like the guy in San Diego did some years ago.) Be sure to get one with tires. Tanks with treads aren’t road compliant. Highway Patrol will give a ticket. Take your tank to your neighbors house and yell, “This is for Fort Sumter.” The clods will either back down or rush for their guns. You now have two choices. One, fire an armor piercing round into their pickup truck and machine gun their home. However, if you are anti-guns, may I suggest driving your tank over their pickup truck and smashing into their home. What stops a thirty-ton tank nothing? Their truck will be flatter than a pancake and their home will be spectacularly ventilated. When the police come by to investigate, simply say, “But office, they never invited me over for barbecue.” The law will understand.

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RAP asks: How do I get rid of my addiction for creating cookbooks?

Dear RAP: You are making the classic mistake of making good food, of making food with a nice aroma. You want to share your wonderful creations with the world. Stop it. Stop it, I say. Start making lutefisk, hasenpfeffer, and Limburger cheese. You’ll never want to write another cookbook. Indeed, you’ll probably never feel the need to cook again. So, it’s a good thing that Taco BellTM has a $5 box meal special going on.

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SP asks: Dear Abby De Lancey: I have a gorjus neighbor who has begun to sunbathe in the nude. The fence between our yards isn’t high enough to block the view, if I go to the top floor and stand on my toes. My question is, do you know of any telescope repair shops in my neighborhood that will accept a rush order? Thanks in advance for your bad advice.

Dear SP: Aww, thanking me in advance, what good manners! Anyway, why the high-tech solution? Why the shyness? Simply place your ladder on the fence and clamber over with a jar of pickles. She’ll appreciate your directness. Women hate wall flowers. Say to her, “These pickles suck. Speaking of sucking pickles, how about getting to know me better?” I guarantee an immediate response.

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SMC asks: What about my “naughty” problems?

Dear SMC: Make money off you “naughty” problems! Get your own reality show. Now you’ll have to have a gimmick to make your show stand out from all those other naughty-problem reality shows. May I suggest constant ad-lib haikus to accompany whatever you’re doing? T.V. listeners will eat it up.

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BRW sends us this delightful photo.

Dear BRW: What a clever cat you have, able to think cogently and bilingual at least. Everyone likes clever cats. Take your cat to your boss’s house. He’ll impressed as all get out when your cat imparts the above advice to his dog. Career mobility will be assured.

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DZ asks: Sometimes people send me a text saying only to give them a call. How do I make them send the information to me in a text like a normal person?

Dear DZ: Give them beans and tell them to under no circumstance to stuff the beans in their ears. Naturally their contrary nature will win out and they will stuff the beans in their ears. (I know this will work. Decades ago, a bright mind came to my father’s elementary school and told all the kids not to stick beans in their ears. The children, who up to then had never considered the idea, went home and pushed beans in their ears.) Anyway, the ear will swell up around the bean–pinto beans are the best–so tightly that they won’t be able to hear. They will be forced to text. Now the beans can be removed by a doctor, so the bean isn’t permanent, but the memories will be. They’ll never ask you to call again. And don’t stick beans in your ears, DZ.

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RSD asks: If i want to beat the best chess player in time and history (Michail Tal or Bobby Fischer) Do I need to go to heaven or hell or what/where/how? 🙂 I need advice, you being the world chef I thought I came to the right place as everyone needs to eat.

Dear RSD: The best chess players are not dead. Their deaths were faked by the CIA. Indeed they work for the CIA. You can find them at Area 51. Just drive up to the main gate and tell the guard that you want to play chess with Tal and Fisher. You’ll be amazed how quickly the guard will wave you in. May you bring your best game with you.

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TLR asks: I’ve been feeling the urge to get another tattoo, Paul. What should I get?

Dear TLR: Either a tattoo of all the recurring items you need to get from the supermarket, but always forget. I mean how many times have you made out a grocery list but forgot to bring it. Or a list of your family’s and friends’ phone numbers. Of course, once you tattoo their names and numbers on your arms, you will need to speak rather forcefully about the dire consequences of changing their phone number.